


just breathe

by kctsudon



Category: GOT7
Genre: !!!, Angst, Break Up, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, basically mark tuan being angsty af and yugyeom being sunshine, i rly love markson but i had to do this, sorry jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kctsudon/pseuds/kctsudon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i'm a boy staring out at the balcony of stars hanging over the sea and it feels like i can breathe in their hot, burning fragile ashes and then light up a wish about you and me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	just breathe

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing so much of late, and i think this will be the last one i'm uploading in awhile. school's right in front of me, good lord. (motherly) jinyoung and (stern fatherly) jaebum being adorably latched together 24/7 is mildly mentioned, should be easy to pick up. hehe.
> 
> also if there are dumb errors anywhere please bear with me otl I can't edit on phone so, I'll read through tonight to make amendments.

mark doesn't remember where things began to go wrong.

he doesn't remember how or when everything began to crumble, because if there were hairline cracks seeping into the core of everything they had, he would've noticed. he would've noticed because he knows jackson inside out, every single crevice from how he felt comfortable in nothing but black to how beneath that obnoxious, loud front he put up constantly, he was nothing but warmth and comfort snuggling against his arm at midnight. 

mark knows how he occasionally needs time to organise his thoughts and put everything back in the right order in his compartmentalised mind, and he always gives him time. 

even if he hadn't seen jackson in two months, when he wakes up in the morning to see tufts of platinum hair poking out from the slightly ajar toilet door, he sneaks his way in to wrap his arms around the boy's torso like its natural. 

like its _their_ very own routine, as simple as breathing. 

but this time something doesn't feel right, especially because jackson doesn't come back even after three months besides the occasional trips to change his snapback or sweater - and mark only knows he's been back because he's a light sleeper and jolts awake whenever the door to their apartment is opened.

and when mark follows behind the ghost of the boy's footsteps, the smell of lavender shampoo and the scent which his nose had uniquely registered as jackson is gone, in its place lingers traces of liquor and smoke. 

mark wakes up everyday to an empty bed and blurring images of jackson.  

he's losing pieces of the patched quilt gradually with each passing day and he's afraid that it'll come to a point where he forgets everything. 

everything about the way jackson's eyes sparkled under the constellations, his calloused fingers burning against mark's pale skin, breathless laughter with his head cocked back genuinely - crumbling like a sheet of rice paper against fire, and mark can't do anything about it. 

and so he learns to step out of the mesh.

 

 

mark gets a part time job at his friend’s café down the road of their once shared apartment, staying out late to wash the dishes and prepare the batter for the pastries in advance even though jinyoung insists he could always do it the next day since he comes in earlier than most of them do. 

but mark needs constant distraction, and he thinks its working because he starts laughing, again, whenever jaebum sneezes into the flour and jinyoung doubles over, almost knocking the syrup off the counter. 

he starts picking things up selectively, leaving what was left of jackson, a now distant name and an empty room, behind.

eventually, mark gets a new name to remember, meeting yugyeom for the first time when the younger boy stumbled into the café fifteen minutes to their closing time snuffling. 

"we're closing soon," mark starts but the boy nods quickly and smoothens his hair before putting his cap back on, his face scrunched up.

"i know its a few minutes past your last order timing but its really too cold and i just finished theatre class and i really, really need some caffeine in my system to last the night," the boy half speaks half wheezes, and mark gets to work right away with a light grin tugging at the right edge of his pale lips. 

its been awhile. 

yugyeom ends up coming more often after, mostly at the same timing as before and mark finds himself moving towards the counter quicker than his mind even processing the familiar figure entering the café with the light jingle of windchimes. it's always the same, a caramel macchiato with lesser whipped cream and a little sprinkle of cinnamon on the top.

mark also learns that yugyeom is a last year theatre student who was a self-proclaimed sucker for tragedies. he likes things bittersweet, explaining his choices in coffee and mark finds himself leaning over the counter engaging in little conversations with him everyday. their durations increase over the weeks, mark and yugyeom don't realise, but jinyoung does. 

"this theatre student guy," jinyoung starts one morning and mark's breath hitches, "you guys get along pretty well." 

"do we?" mark muses after a few seconds, turning quickly on his feet to push the new batch of cupcakes into the oven.

"yeah, it's been awhile since i saw you laugh like that, mark," jinyoung looks up from his dough, "it's a good thing." 

they fall silent for a few moments and mark thinks that jinyoung doesn't realise his grin as he turns to lean against the counter, observing his batch of cupcakes turn in the oven. 

 

 

mark finds himself mulling over jinyoung's words at three in the morning when he's hurled himself up upon hearing his alarm. he's lying on the couch in the living area and when he's distracted by the sound of a running tap, he barely catches his breath. 

after a year and a half of quietude, he's reminded of waves crashing against the shore.

he barely reaches the doorway when he’s met by facial features so familiar it stings, so familiar and yet distant that mark feels like he's about to throw up. 

this isn't right, he should've changed the passcode to their door, or shifted entirely for that matter.

"what are _you_ doing here?" mark's voice is hoarse as he fights the trembles he feels against his spine. 

"mark, i missed you." 

"no, you didn't. jackson, you were gone for nineteen months. that's way too long for you to come back like this."

the boy grunts and presses his palm against the wall with a thump that startles mark, "so what you're saying is i shouldn't be here. i shouldn't be back at my home, after wrecking my fucking head for more than a year?" 

mark grimaces at how jackson is close to hissing, his entire body tight with every vein visibly pressed against his now tanner skin. this isn't how he would've pictured jackson's return. jackson had left in the wrong way, and hence it never felt like he was ever gone. mark had merely covered the ache up with layers and layers of self protectiveness, making the then safe assumption that once jackson breached past the boundary of a year, he wouldn't come back. 

mark's lungs press for air, every breath fire against his chest. he glances into the empty room beside him before turning back to face jackson. 

"nothing in this house belongs to you now."

things escalate and the next thing mark processes is jackson dropping his guards, choking on his words and practically pleading mark to stop being like this, but to be the mark that he remembers. the one that'd take him into warm arms regardless of how long he needed to settle things. the one that didn't break promises, not even once. and jackson is so vulnerable, _too_ vulnerable that mark feels that maybe being adamant on holding it against jackson was a mistake, maybe he should do what he usually did, forgive and forget. but mark can't do it.

"not everything can be salvaged, jackson." 

mark leaves when he feels his knees grow weak, grabbing the keys to the café on the way out. jackson's still leaning over the counter with a couple of broken glasses by his feet, literally a mess which mark would've spent days or even months patching back into entirety.

if things hadn't turned out this way.

"heard you've been seen around with youngjae alot recently, he's a fucking gem. don't fuck up again," mark almost growls, "i'll change the lock this week. if you're unwilling, text me and i'll find a new apartment." 

mark barely steadies himself when he closes the door behind him, keys pressed so firmly into his palm that his skin stings – and he runs, he runs down the stairs even though his apartment’s on the twelfth floor, he runs even though the echoes of his footsteps are thundering against his chest and every breath feels like he’s inhaling a thin sheet of fog surrounding everything he’d learnt to live without over the past few months.

mark runs because he can no longer fill in the gaps.

so he doesn’t try to stop himself, letting his worn sneakers pad against the pavement, his damp grey flannel shirt clinging onto his torso. at some point of time, he stops processing the feeling of having his feet against the gravel and all sounds are blocked out by the cacophony of thoughts about nothing and everything both at once. he doesn’t know how long he’s been at it or where he’s heading for but nothing matters because with everything jumbling into a woven tapestry wrapped firmly around his wrists, mark _just_ wants to run.

because when he stops, he’ll start thinking of the boy’s laughter breathless and endearing, the manner in which he would always have said the sweetest of things in cantonese just so mark wouldn’t understand, every single syllable he’d memorized with jackson’s warm breath against his neck, jumbled with blurry images of jolting awake to an empty bed and hands reaching fervently for a half-empty bottle of pills. 

because when he stops, everything crumbles.

everything hits mark like a freight train when he collapses before the café, arms pressed in the wrong angles against the pastel tiles. he hears the windchimes thump against the glass door and warm hands are wrapped around his wrist, accompanied by a worried voice that he doesn’t really hear. but he knows it’s jinyoung because no one else would check in at this hour, and so he lets the younger boy lead him into the dim café before shrinking into a seat in the corner. jinyoung sits across him, saying something that mark thinks is something along the lines of what happened and what’s wrong but mark chooses to keep quiet, soulless eyes meeting the boy’s deep frowns.

it wouldn’t be jinyoung if he didn’t understand immediately. 

and so when mark gets up to leave when it’s eight so that they can open the café, jinyoung forces mark to keep working just so that everything around him doesn’t slow down until he’s ready to tumble into the chasm of empty space ahead of him. he keeps mark busy throughout the day, tasking him to make double the batches of cupcakes (which he knows he and jaebum will have to finish during supper) or tidy the cabinets in the dry kitchen. jaebum doesn’t really understand and throws jinyoung looks whenever he adds a task to the silent boy’s to-do list, but mark doesn’t complain. 

twenty minutes before their closing time, jinyoung gives mark a break and the said boy settles for slumping over one of the tables in the corner, his head pillowed softly in his trembling forearms as he falls asleep quickly.

fifteen minutes before their closing time, yugyeom enters the café with a pretty grand entrance of almost tumbling over the kerb with his eyes barely opened when jinyoung rushes over to keep him from bumping into jaebum (and the tray of five hot lattes in his hands). 

“shit, i’m so sorry-” yugyeom starts, rubbing his eyes absently as he trudged towards the counter, jinyoung following closely behind mumbling a series of _it’s okay_ ’s. 

as jinyoung proceeds to make yugyeom his usual, he sees yugyeom’s eyes flicking to scan the small café until he pauses and cocks his head to the side upon seeing tufts of bleached hair poking up from a lump of what seemed to be a brown apron.

“he’s had a rough day,” jinyoung says softly as he pushes the paper cup towards the younger boy.

“he’ll be fine,” he adds, when the boy stiffens with slightly widened eyes.

 

 

it’s been three weeks since jinyoung started dragging jaebum along to mark’s apartment every night after they’ve closed the shop for the day even though mark’s been insisting that it’s somewhat redundant because he’s numb by now. they end up sitting in the living room watching videos, mostly jaebum’s choices because he thinks that jinyoung’s love for sappy romance stories might affect the older boy in some way even though mark ends up falling asleep fifteen minutes into every movie.

it’s the same that night, with jinyoung and jaebum discreetly sitting with their shoulders touching on one of the couches with a bowl of popcorn lying on both of their thighs while mark curled up on the smaller couch on the side. things don’t feel very different even though mark felt like his world had crumbled down two weeks ago. lying in that same couch with his favourite blanket draped over his legs doesn’t feel empty, neither does it make him think of nights spent with jackson’s body heat in place of his faulty heater.

instead he finds himself staring at the bright screen aimlessly, his mind revolving around nothing but his work in the café and how intensely glaring the screen is half the time. he thinks that nothing really has any significance to him anymore at that point of time besides recipes and serving customers with a genuine grin. he tunes in when the movie that they’re watching has a scene where the female lead attempts to make an orange liqueur cupcake and lets his eyes hover over the ingredients laid out the table.

“hey mark,” jinyoung starts to which mark replies with a soft ‘sup’ without peeling his eyes away from the screen.

“i was just wondering if you realised that yugyeom hasn’t been dropping by for weeks? and if you’d know anything about it.”

mark turns to face jinyoung right as jaebum jabs his counterpart with a slight frown, and shakes his head softly, “it’s been awhile.”

jinyoung nods before jabbing his partner back with mock annoyance before continuing, “he dropped by the other day when you were down. i told him you had a rough day, he looked pretty worried.”

mark’s breath hitches slightly and clears his throat gently just so jinyoung wouldn’t notice, “maybe he’s busy with finals. he’s a final year student afterall.”

but both of his friends notice, and mark doesn’t fall asleep after the conversation ends. rather, he flips the blanket over his chest just so he can hide his small frown as he lets his thoughts drift away from the bijou radius of work and recipes, tilting towards the final year theatre student who once reminded him of fireplaces and snowflakes all at once. just a little.  

 

 

and so when the glass door is pushed open hastily at 11:15 again on a friday afternoon about a month later, mark’s glad that he hadn’t forgotten how to make a caramel macchiato after spending weeks on pure baking. yugyeom’s sneezing again, and mark can’t help but find the boy’s red nose (and somewhat red cheeks when he sees him behind the counter) arguably endearing in the middle of winter.

“why’re you always snuffling?” mark asks softly, his voice so delicate that yugyeom thinks it might’ve been his hallucination when the older boy brought his order to his table in the corner of the room.

“long nights writing sappy melodramatic scripts to fit the society’s perception of good movies?” the boy says with such a playful tone that it sounds almost like a question, his voice harmonious over the christmas songs blaring through the speakers.

“fair enough,” mark says with a slight squint.

“i’m definitely not going through that again,” yugyeom muses with an expression of mock disgust as he runs his hand through his now brown hair, gaining a smirk from mark.

“at least your finals are over.” 

“it’s paaarty time, hyung,” yugyeom says, stretching the syllable out for a few seconds, his eyes hovering over mark’s lightly coloured cheeks.

“well then maybe you could drop by earlier next time, so you won’t have to drink all of that within fifteen minutes,” mark puts the tray on the adjacent table and reaches for the chair opposite of the boy clad in a leather jacket.

“it’s my new routine though.”

“we could always close later,” jaebum calls out from where he’s perched behind the counter checking the cash register with jinyoung and when mark peers over, the smug look spread across jinyoung’s face makes it difficult for the older boy to resist throwing the tray in his direction.

“i’d be really grateful,” yugyeom chimes and cocks his head to the side with a grin that spreads all the way to his eyes to form soft crescents that remind mark of nights spent staring out at the balcony of stars hanging over the sea back in california where he felt like he could breathe in their burning ashes and light up a small wish about his future. 

mark nods and returns a small smile tugging at the right edge of his dry lips, _i’d love having you around._


End file.
